Earplug Q+A with GusGus’s Daniel Agust

The interview with Daniel Agust of GusGus is up at Earplug/Flavorwire. Peek below.

Exclusive: Interview With GusGus Vocalist Daníel Ágúst

As anyone who’s followed GusGus knows, surprises await with every release. But the Icelandic collective has even more surprising surprises with its latest album, 24/7. First, there’s the Jesus-on-velvet cover art; then there’s a cameo by pop-savant Jimi Tenor. And there’s the track list, just six songs long.

24/7 is the group’s first album on Cologne’s micro-house juggernaut Kompakt, so it’s filled with darker, abstract electronic tracks instead of club hits. The video for the first single, the share-friendly “Add This Song,” takes place in a morgue and includes a fetish-friendly corpse-licking scene. Despite these quirks, singer Daníel Ágúst says that this time around, the intent was to take a break from the circus vibe the group spent the last decade cultivating. “We allow the band to go through changes and develop musically,” he explains. “When I came back, it was because I felt I had something to share.” Read More »

Earplug #133: Girl Talk interview

The current issue of Earplug is up, featuring my interview with Gregg “Girl Talk” Gillis, and a photo by my friend, fellow DJ-lover, Anna “Detroit” White. We make a pretty good team, I think.

Feature

November 6, 2008

Girl Talk’s Copyleft Curveballs
Sampling artist puts a smiley face on Plunderphonics

Until two years ago, biomedical engineer/mashup DJ Gregg “Girl Talk” Gillis spent more time crunching data in a cubicle than stripping on stage. His sophomore CD, Night Ripper, changed all that. 2008’s Feed the Animals reflects the RIAA-baiting producer’s newfound focus: the samples are longer and the “songs” more complete, but the pace is no less frenetic. Earplug’s Jorge Hernandez caught up with Girl Talk in Manhattan to talk irregular fashions, “Moist Vagina,” and the sonic collective unconscious.

Earplug:  You’re having quite a moment right now. What are you up to?

Greg Gillis:  I’m working on some music with a friend of mine, Hearts of Darkness. He does weird computer stuff, and we play together as Trey Told ‘Em.

EP:  You working on anything special together?

GG:  We’re doing a really long Nirvana cover; it’s really far out. We got these Nirvana multi-tracks, and we’re doing “Moist Vagina” with live drums and noisy, crazy stuff.

EP:  How do you get your hands on something like that?

GG:  Some kid who’s into my stuff knew I was into Nirvana. His dad had access to a studio, and so they sent me a few tracks like that.

EP:  Do you have free license, or are you just running with it?

GG:  I want to do an official EP of remixes of all of them, because no one else has their hands on it. I want to do something interesting. We’ve just been working on this one song this week. We haven’t really rehearsed much, but the little bit that we’ve done — you can tell it’s going to be good.

EP:  Are you still working your day job?

GG:  No, I quit last summer. I haven’t cut my hair since I quit. That year before I quit, I played like a hundred shows, so it was getting hard to ask for vacation time. I don’t have a job, but I happen to be able to live off this, so I’m feeling lucky.

EP:  The samples on Feed the Animals are longer. Are you getting in trouble? Isn’t there a time limit to samples?

GG:  That’s an urban myth. It used to be under a certain amount, but they recently ruled against that. Fair Use allows you to use however long you want, as long as the work is transformative, and it doesn’t impact the artist negatively. It’s more holistic criteria. There’s a big academic and legal movement behind it, so it’s not really that big of an issue any more.

EP:  A lot of the samples you use are very recognizable.

GG:  Most of the a cappella samples are available for a reason: the rap ones are on B-sides and 12-inches, and the Internet, and it’s because record labels want people to do crazy stuff with it. Stuff like my music is an effective way to promote the artists. It’s a different era. Hearing the music itself doesn’t hold value; you can go hear any song for free on Soulseek. If you pay money for it, it’s because you want to invest in it. So, I feel morally solid about what I’m doing.

EP:  You use Creative Commons, right?

GG:  They helped us out, gave us a bunch of specific elements. I’ve actually been getting a lot of support.

EP:  From whom, for example?

GG:  Representative Mike Doyle spoke in favor of me and DJ Drama and mixtapes and mashups. He compared it to Paul McCartney using a Chuck Berry riff.

EP:  How did you get started, gear-wise?

GG:  A lot of that stuff was just like modified children’s toys, broken stuff from the Salvation Army; whatever you can find, real junk gear. There were a couple of real samplers here and there.

EP:  It’s funny how all this music is rattling around in your brain, and you respond to the smallest samples.

GG:  For me, it’s a blatant form of music’s influence in general. You develop these affiliations with music, and what I like to do is recontextualize it. I guess that’s why the shows get so crazy. Regardless of what you’re into, it’s all being represented.

EP:  What do your parents think?

GG:  They’re cool with it, but the early shows with the noise band kinda took them a minute, because we’d be up there smashing things, and they were weirded out. But this Girl Talk stuff, they really like.

EP:  Your shows are notorious for getting kind of crazy — and naked. What happens to your clothes? Do they end up on eBay?

GG:  I don’t know. Even when I take a sweatshirt off, people take it all — even when I don’t throw it out there. There’s a store called Gabriel Brothers in West Virginia, Pennsylvania, and Ohio. They sell mis-manufactured clothing. I buy all my sweat outfits there still — they’re like a dollar or two each. When I used to be a kid, we used to go there. It was a lot weirder then; there’d be a Miami Hurricanes shirt with a Yankees logo on the back. It’s a bit more subtle these days, but that’s where I still get everything I wear onstage.

Girl Talking

On a sweltering day in July, I met up with Gregg ‘Girl Talk‘ Gillis for an Earplug interview at Bubby’s in Tribeca – “famous for their pies and homemade sodas”. Anna met up with us and took a few pictures, one of which they liked for the story – and one, which clearly did not. (Sadly, the Sakamoto interview is “on hold” – but at least we got a good couple pictures.) We sweet-talked the hostess into giving us a private corner so we could “do this in peace”. The interview will be up soon.
Here’s a link to a PA Rep Dolye speaking up in defense of him – comparing sampling to Paul McCartney lifting a Chuck Berry riff. There’s also a cool rotoscope video made by some Canadian university students. Such is the devotion.
To download the album on a pay-as-you-wish basis, check the Girl Talk site.
A few days after this interview, Gillis played All Points West. I went courtesy of Underworld, and as much as I dug them and mopey Radiohead, Friday night was all about the Girl Stage. In the crowd and on stage, it was a beach blanket mashup. I forgot my camera, so Youtube away.

Earplug #124: Jamie Lidell

My interview with Jamie Lidell is (finally) online at Earplug. Enjoy!

When it comes to playing that funky music, any white boy can sashay into a studio, push some buttons, and walk out a blue-eyed pop star. But few vocalists of any shade can carry a tune while simultaneously carrying off a range of absurd antics. In addition to breaking out the beatbox, Jamie Lidell samples and loops himself into a howling chorus of banshees, unleashing his inner soul-man in a caped romp across the stage. Dressed to the nines, but no less naked for it, Lidell has banged his sweet pipes at Warp over the course of three albums, making the former IDM label sound more like Stax or Motown. On his latest release, the intimately titled Jim, Lidell brings Burt Bacharach-style harmonics to the dub plate. Earplug’s Jorge Hernandez asked the man about his unlikely career trajectory, his sartorial prowess, and how “the voice” reacts to a specific nightmare scenario.

Earplug: The “Sonic Scientist” has a band now. How’s that going?

Jamie Lidell: For once in my life, I’m not alone anymore. I’m just surrounded, in fact, by wood and brass, plastic-coated chunks of pain. And primitive-looking sticks. I guess that’s what they call progress. Hard to see how, but hey, I just sing, baby! No, in all seriousness, it’s like breaking out of a drug habit. I’m learning how to rip again, to take the mic and treat it to a night out. There’s more of me on the walkabout now, promenading about with the powerhouse behind me. A feather in a hurricane was how it felt. Now I am like a windsock — letting it blow and never suck.

EP: Jim is a patchwork of an album. How do you decide what to leave out?

JL: If I told you that, you might try and become me. That’s why all I’ll say is, everyone gets me wrong. It’s not simply a question of what stays and what goes; it’s a question of why go at all. This is far more fundamental, and crushes journalistic concerns about time and relevance, which are purely concerns about fashion. It’s as important as a haircut. That’s all.

EP: What solidified this more pop direction?

JL: All that glitching was making me itch. I’ve made electronic music for around 20 years. Now that’s scary for me to imagine, and even admit! This album was my attempt to unify the Venn diagram of “pop” and “things I like” — glitch also fits the things I like, but was not in my pop. Not this time. Just enjoy it people. There’s plenty more glitch in me.

EP: Any more Bacharach cooking at Warp?

JL: Ah, I think I’m the only one that is throwing in the Burt. Shame. Maybe the new Aphex [Twin] might surprise. I hear he’s doing a sort of Riverdance thing. Dancing and everything, but all very classical. Bagpipes, yodeling, and glock. The label is really happy about it, as there’s just four people left holding the fort. Some of them are mute. It’s pretty odd, but you know what? I love Warp [because] they let me be a spazz, and that’s all I know how to be. So, so be it!

EP: Any other soul singers to reference, besides the obvious?

JL: Chas & Dave are lesser known outside the UK. They had a few notable hits in the UK. Also Dave Lee Travis, the radio DJ from the UK. He always inspired my tone. He’s always so there and just to the point. Like a good steak.

EP: Amy Winehouse seems like an obvious duet. What’s the hold up?

JL: Well, if you could sort it out, I’d be down. Could you have a word? She’s gotta hand me one of those Grammys first.

EP: Describe your Berlin.

JL: Well, I left. I was bored of getting stopped in the street. I couldn’t get a wurst even; it was bizarre. The press in Germany and around the world went crazy after Multiply, and short of a facial op, I could see no way forward except to leave the gaff. “But I will always love Berlinnnn…” Well, that’s a lie. I hated Berlin for a long time. Then she showed me some leg, and I saw the garters.

EP: If you lost your voice, what would you do? Ever had any nightmares about that?

JL: Well, I have been having some bad times of late. Even went to a voice doctor. She told [me] that I better let off some steam. But I didn’t hear a word she said. There’s too much pressure building in my head. It’s a recurring nightmare where my voice box leaves me and walks off into the sunset… singing. I am left trying to cry for it but I can’t make a sound. Ho hum.

EP: You’re a dapper chap. Are designers just throwing clothes at you?

JL: My ladyfriend has all the taste. When she’s not around, I go back to jeans ‘n t-shirt and all that. I love it all though; you gotta wear it, after all, before it wears you and wears you out. It’s a game. Sometimes you can’t win though. You just look shit. No clothes can fix you now. Rarely happens, thankfully.

EP: Would you ever guest judge a competition show? Did you ever perform in one?

JL: [I] only performed in front of the world press. They are simply poorly paid judges of the vanity/musical contest that is forever ongoing. Everyone always respects the hard critic. And as Prince says, “All the Critics Love U in New York.” La dee fricking dah!

WMC08: Long Days Journey into Disco Nights

Something I typed up on the Crackberry, waiting for the plane to take off from Miami to NYC:

When I think of Miami, I think of Brian de Palma’s 80’s gangster flick Scarface – of Tony Montana and his “liddle fren”. Because I’m a House music head, I also think of his other friend, Michelle Pfeiffer’s Elvira, in her plantinum bob and razor sharp bangs, in her slinky, silky dresses, all coked up in the nightclub, dancing to Debbie Harry’s (Moroder-produced) “Rush, Rush”.
And from the moment you land in Miami, rush, rush is all you do, for Miami is not only home to one of the most chaotic airports in the country, it is also home to the Winter Music Conference. And every year, like migrating birds, media and party people from all corners of our increasingly warmer planet alight on the silicone and steroid-powered strip of sand known as South Beach to schmooze and celebrate this thing we call DJ Culture.
From the moment you step out of the terminal and the warm air hits your face, to the moment you jump in a cab and race down the causeways as palm trees zip by while Latin Jazz plays on the radio, to the moment you berate your concierge for botching your overpriced reservations and hustle the publicists and door whores who wield clipboards like Saint Peter – Miami is all about the rush, rush. How you manage to survive the week is likely best kept “off the record”.

The final Earplug piece is here.

The Resident Advisor group feature is here; there’s a sample below.

Carl Cox at Ultra: Tent nearly collapses with excitement

Ultra Day 1 at Bicentennial Park
Roots and youth collided full force at the 10th Ultra Music Festival at WMC 2008. On day one, the audience at The Crystal Method’s afternoon set on the Rabbit Hole stage looked like a casting call for the latest Larry Clark flick. A plethora of ravers roamed the grounds decked out in neon fishnets, flashing rainbow pacifiers, sparkly butterfly wings, and fuzzy Pocahontas boots. It was like the Summer of Love had never ended. I am seriously considering moving my stocks from eco-energy to glo-stix. Elsewhere on the grounds, every other DJ had one or two classics ready at hand. On the main stage, Eric Prydz threw the already hyped crowd into a tizzy with a reworking of New Order’s ‘Blue Monday’, and a mashup of Eurythmics’ ‘Sweet Dreams’ and Nina Simone’s ‘Feeling Good.’ Later in the evening, Justice unleashed a brutal electro-grime set, including their own ‘We Are Your Friends’ and Prodigy’s ‘Smack My Bitch Up’. Justice were all fist-pumping revelry until the finale when they closed with ‘Modern Love’ by Bowie, which sent me scampering to the Amnesia Ibiza stage where Lee Burridge, and earlier James Zabiela, were both dropping chugging, Balearic sets that seemed almost designed to make me forget about the Justice finale. The place to be hands down on day one, however, was the Carl Cox and Friends tent. Carl, if you’re reading this, you owe me a new pair of pants because I crapped my old ones. From the second Cox took over from Danny Tenaglia, the tent nearly collapsed in excitement. Earlier in the day, Josh Wink had jumpstarted the rumble on Biscayne Boulevard with an acid-laced tech-house set that segued perfectly into a takeover by Ritchie Hawtin. By the time Tenaglia showed up, Hawtin was tearing through a retro conclusion, mashing up the Track’n The House mix of ‘House Nation’ by the House Master Boyz and the Rude Boy of House, ‘Reach for Me’ by the Miami-homegrown, Murk-produced Funky Green Dogs, and UK acid queens Wee Papa Girl Rappers’ ‘Heat It Up.’ Not to be outdone in the classics department, master of ceremony Cox looped Giorgio Moroder’s ‘The Chase’ through Ian Pooley’s Hyperdisco mix of Dave Angel’s ‘This is Disco’. When he got around to Inner City’s crossover hit ‘Big Fun’, Bicentennial Park was seconds from becoming Atlantis. Cox’s undulating, spine-snapping rhythms and steel-toed backbeats kicked relentlessly. Was it tribal, Italo, techno? Were we in Detroit, Berlin, Manchester? By the time I tore myself away, blissfully deaf, dumb and numb it didn’t matter. Bouncing around under glitter confetti beside an electric android on stilts and witchy-poo go-go wenches, I was so out of sorts I even drank from the communal water bottles which were coming around without even thinking about cooties. Cox and friends had ripped open a wormhole in Miami, we all gladly drank the Kool-Aid and like randy time bandits, jumped right in. For the sake of my own ears and sanity I even checked in on Tiesto and the rest of the festival – all of which seemed suddenly underwhelming. Feeling born-again, I felt like testifying “Take the needle off the record, y’alls and take some notes!” So, go ahead, call me a Cox sucker – I’m the smilingest sucker this side of the emergency room. –Jorge Hernandez

Kelley Polar Interview: Earplug 117

You are here: Earplug Home > Issue #117
Feature
March 27, 2008
Kelley Polar Goes Solar
Avant-disco producer reaches for the stars

A classical prodigy gone disco darling, Metro Area cohort Kelley Polar lives in a Unabomber-style shack with no running water. It may not be the easiest place to dial for a telephone interview, but the lush, dense environ of his New Hampshire home offers a great place to make heavenly electronic music. A few days before the release of Polar’s second CD, I Need You to Hold On While the Sky Is Falling , Earplug’s Jorge Hernandez rang up the reclusive star-child. The last thing Polar wants to talk about is Julliard, that toy turntable, or Arthur Russell, so naturally the conversation instead turned to UFOs, Russian movies, and mad ravers in wife-beaters.

Francois sez fas, Flashe’ no do

As I was sitting in a diner in LA over the Xmas break, I flipped through the local weekly and found a nightlife column by a high school friend. I was instantly jealous. Until I read it.
The universe, sensing my hateration sent a crackberry buzz to soothe me. Subject: Fracois K, as in do you want to interview him? Hmm, the DJ was already so legendary by 1981 that Blondie was referencing him in Rapture alongside Fab Five Freddy and Grandmaster Flash. Umm, yeah, I think when I get back to New York, yes, I do want to sit down with Mssr. Kevorkian and ask him just what the fuck Debbie Harry was talking about back in the day.

Francois sez fas, Flashe’ no do

As I was sitting in a diner in LA over the Xmas break, I flipped through the local weekly and found a nightlife column by a high school friend. I was instantly jealous. Until I read it.
The universe, sensing my hateration sent a crackberry buzz to soothe me. Subject: Fracois K, as in do you want to interview him? Hmm, the DJ was already so legendary by 1981 that Blondie was referencing him in Rapture alongside Fab Five Freddy and Grandmaster Flash. Umm, yeah, I think when I get back to New York, yes, I do want to sit down with Mssr. Kevorkian and ask him just what the fuck Debbie Harry was talking about back in the day.

Minced Beats: Prefuse 73 Q&A

You are here: Earplug Home > Issue #107

Feature: November 8, 2007

Minced Beats: Prefuse 73 puts hip-hop through its paces

For almost a decade, Prefuse 73 has rocked Warp’s glitch-pop roster with hyper-edited, slightly schizophrenic, somewhat melancholy hopscotch beats. While globe-trotting in support of his latest CD, Preparations, Guillermo Scott Herren (also one half of Savath y Savalas) set aside a couple of hours to talk roots, edits, and karma with Earplug’s Jorge Hernandez.

Earplug: What inspired your time in Spain?

Guillermo Scott Herren: My father’s Spanish and my mom’s Cuban/Irish. I was born in Miami, but I came up in Atlanta — a largely black-and-white world. So, I didn’t have a chance to dig into that part of myself. People would say, “You’re what?” The whole time I was [living] in Spain, I was devoted to absorbing the culture, the people and getting a sense of myself.

EP: Did you do any partying?

GSH: I know I’m on one of the ultimate electronic labels, and I love Warp — they’ve been nothing but good to me — but I really consider myself a hip-hop artist. I don’t really know much about electronic music and the club scene’s not my thing; so no, I didn’t party at all.

EP: Are you tight with other Latino/Hispanic electronic artists like Tommy Guerrero, Kid 606, or Matias Aguayo?

GSH: Tommy’s my boy. I love that guy. His head and heart are totally in the right place and his music’s great. A couple others I’ve actually had trouble with. At a recent festival I had words with someone over the heritage thing. I’m not going to name names because it’s not important.

EP: Fair enough. I saw your newborn’s picture on MySpace. How’s that going?

GSH: That’s Alejandro, and he stays with his abuela in New York while I’m on the road, which is a lot. I’m 32 now. Over the years, I’ve had everything — girls, drugs, fame — up in my face, and when you’re young, you can get caught up. As you get older, you realize that’s all meaningless and a big distraction that has nothing to do with anything real.

EP: Sounds holistic. What’s your spiritual life like?

GSH: I get that from my mom; she’s a big New Age hippie type, and she’s been a big influence.

EP: Your tracks are highly disembodied. Why mince the words of vocalists and MCs like that?

GSH: When I started out, I was almost obsessed, compulsive, about that editing style. I was trying to get at something with the vocal treatments and I was reacting to something and defining something for myself. Lately, I’ve eased up on that and now the words are much more important and present.

EP: Your music’s like a bipolar dialect…

GSH: I’ve definitely experienced that — the highs and the lows and the mood swings. I’ve learned to work through it and use it to put more passion into my music.

EP: You’re pretty hardcore about the state of hip-hop and the industry. Antipop Consortium was on Warp, and you’ve worked with Mos Def and El-P. Any collaborations you’ve passed on or regret?

GSH: Again, I’m not into calling people out in print, but I’ve turned down some pretty high-profile calls because I’m not into doing things just to make a buck or be part of some gimmick.

EP: You started out DJing and working for a commercial studio. Has radio success killed hip-hop? Anyone on the Top 40 you’d care to produce? Mary J. Blige, maybe?

GSH: If Mary J. Blige came knocking, I’d be all over that, no doubt. And some of the tracks on the new Kanye album are really smooth. Many others, including some of the more allegedly enlightened ones that are selling out, I still have issues with.

EP: On the subject of issues — your name refers to the jazz period pre-fusion, 1973. Your inward style seems suited to that era’s free-form experimentation. Why the disconnect? Are you a bebop head?

GSH: Music lost focus around then. I admire musicians like Alice Coltrane who had a solid vision and explored it all the way through, and took the listener along, no matter the fallout or feedback.

EP: While we’re talking feedback, how do you like doing press?

GSH: Cats who get on the phone and straight up say they’ve had a promo for a month and didn’t bother listening before calling, that just kills me. There are good guys out there. This one guy, at another website, his editors questioned his integrity and fired him. I heard from him the other day; he’s reporting on Iraq now.

Super Natural Beats

Friday night, the Natural History Museum – yes, that one – will be hosting (along with Flavorpill) the latest in their One Step Beyond DJ Planetarium gigs featuring Superpitcher, currently one half of Supermayer (along with Kompakt boss Michael Mayer). Their new album Save the World just dropped – and yours truly has been playing email tag for another interview.
Last word, Flavorpill wants to videotape the pre-show chat, as well as run it in Earplug. Word is Superpitcher’s as camera shy as I am, so we’ll see how this goes. There aren’t too many videos online that do the mixes justice; but don’t let that dissuade you. Recommended tracks – “Two of Us” (played twice in one set by Sasha at Webster Hall Friday night), their remix of Gui Boratto’s “Like You” and the dreamy, buttery Lawrence remix of Superpitcher’s own “Happiness.”
Rave on, kids. “Mom, we’re going to the museum…See ya Sunday!”

Mr. T Chronicles

Up next on the interview slab – Anders Trentemoller. The Danish musician went from indie rocker to deck master in 1997; his album The Last Resort then spun its way up tastemakers’ 2006 lists. To support his 2007 double CD retrospective compliation – The Trentemoller Chronicles – Mr. T has hit the road, dropping crackling electro-disco sets across USA’s hipper boites.
Earlier today, on the subway platform, iPoddin’, thinking about what to ask T, it occurred to megalomaniac me that my own DJ play list – for all its exotic labels – never strays too deep underground, at least not for long. My fondness for ear candy creeps into my crates every time. I shrugged it off, “That’s why you’re not DJ’ing anywhere, anymore”, focusing on the interview again.
Chatting up Euro DJ’s can be off-putting. A lot of techno doesn’t suit my Chicago-influenced tastes; and making out their accents and references can be an exercise in miscommunication and obscure name-checking. “What did the Chicano scribbler ask the Danish spinner?” It might have something to do with connecting the Smiths, the Cure and Depeche Mode to Laurent Garnier, Alex Gopher and Etienne De Crecy. Check Earplug soon and find out. Meantime, peep this kicking live performance of “Moan” and check his own relatively accessible play list on EP featuring Sigur Ros, Mazzy Star and Jimi Tenor.

Papis Chulos & A Caribou, Oh My!

You are here: Earplug Home > Issue #102

Feature
August 30, 2007

Papis Chulos
Modeselektor go from mama’s boys to proud papas

Modeselektor’s down ‘n dirty techno takes no prisoners. The duo’s live shows are bombastic assaults on the senses that leave no genre unturned — crunk, dub, and electro all get worked into the mix with equal abandon. Gernot Bronsert and Sebastian Szary have been kicking around since 1996, but the one-two punch of their 2007 Boogy Bytes Vol. 3 mix and this September’s full-length, Happy Birthday! — both for their longtime home Bpitch Control — have set the world’s dance floors atwitter with sweaty glee. Earplug’s Jorge Hernandez rang up Szary to talk shop, babies, and bingo while Bronsert puttered and muttered around in their Berlin home studio.

Earplug: This is a new studio?

Sebastian Szary: We left the studio one year ago because the house was under reconstruction. During the production for Happy Birthday!, we did several tracks at Gernot and his girlfriend’s home. Now she’s pregnant, my girlfriend’s pregnant. It was all quite a production.

EP: When are the babies due?

SS: Mine’s coming first, in October; Gernot’s is due in December. This is the first time. I don’t know what will happen then. This is a new experience.

EP: A lot of club kids are having babies now. What’s going on?

SS: That’s the reason we called the album Happy Birthday! We had a lot of different names for it. We were going to call it 700 Years of Modeselektor, Name Dropping Volume 1.

EP: Are you guys going to take some time off?

SS: No, the babies are coming during tour stops. I think it’s a never-ending tour. The last tour we played for a year and a half, closing on New Year’s in Glasgow.

EP: Are you coming to the States?

SS: Of course. Maybe spring next year. Our first show in the US was in Missoula, MO, last year. Can you believe it? David Lynch is from there. It was on a Wednesday, in a bingo hall. The guys that booked us put in a sound system and some lights, and we had 400 people there. One day later we played Seattle, then San Francisco, etc.

EP: What was the most interesting show?

SS: Detroit was interesting. We played the DEMF, but not the festival. We played at a theater. I never saw a city like this. It’s a shrinking city, but it’s a moving city.

EP: Wasn’t Berlin like that at some point? It’s been very trendy lately.

SS: It’s a good place for working, but it’s not paradise. It’s dirty, loud. But it’s cheaper than New York, and good food. Lots of communities from everywhere.

EP: You have a lot of people on this album: Otto von Schirach, Paul St. Hilaire…

SS: With Otto, we did this amazing cover version of Scooter’s “Hyper Hyper.” I said, “Do you know it?” He didn’t, so we sent him the original and then we did it. You know Otto? He’s a big blond guy with brown skin and he does shows with big outfits.

EP: How did you hook up with Paul St. Hilaire? You did something with him before — I think Dabrye did a remix.

SS: The Paul St. Hilaire song is a Moderat track, because we did it with Apparat, so we call ourselves Moderat. It’s not in the credits, but that’s it. Gernot worked at a record store called Hard Wax and Paul would come in. He started coming to our shows, then said, “Let’s do a track together.” He’s very organized.

EP: How did that work? I imagine you’re more spontaneous.

SS: In the past, we’d go in and just start pushing buttons. But for the new album we’d start at 6am and work like a regular day with a break in the middle for lunch, then we’d work some more.

EP: Which one of you is into customizing gear?

SS: I started with an 808 back in 1990, to learn how it worked. Then I met Gernot and we started working together.

EP: What were you planning on doing before music?

SS: Gernot used to work with handicapped kids. And I did a very dirty job. I worked in a concrete plant. I did that for a few years; then I found my second life.

EP: So now it’s just music? You don’t miss your old jobs?

SS: Modeselektor is our life now. It’s everything.

Album Review
August 30, 2007

Caribou
Andorra
Merge
August 21, 2007

Up in Flames is more than just the title of Manitoba’s final album: it also describes Dan Snaith’s transformation into a new production entity. Forced to reinvent himself after a legal tussle with a cantankerous rocker, Snaith emerged anew as Caribou for 2005 freak-jazz opus Milk of Human Kindness. On his latest record, Andorra, the producer returns with an even tighter, more rhythm-centric sensibility. Named after a Spanish town, the nine-track EP is heavy on harmonics and cascading walls of sound. The self-produced album swings with a big-band vibe, pumping psychedelic pop full of electronic reverie. Opener “Melody Day” proves that even flutes can rock, and rave-ready mini-epic “Niobe” brings the funky white noise to a tenderly layered close. Gilding the lily, Junior Boys’ Jeremy Greenspan joins in, as well, dropping lush guest vocals on “She’s the One.” Losing his identity may have been inconvenient for Snaith, but Andorra makes musical resurrection feel more like an act of magical rebellion.

-JH

Interview: Fujiya & Miyagi (Earplug 99)

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Feature
July 19, 2007

Brighton Beats Memoirs
Fujiya & Miyagi leave their day jobs in the dust

A trio of former jocks from Brighton named for a Japanese turntable and the Karate Kid master, Fujiya & Miyagi play “exquisite corpse” with ’70s psyche rock, ’80s post-punk, and ’90s electronica. Their US debut, Transparent Things, echoes Can, Wire, Happy Mondays, and LCD Soundsystem. Head-nodding form follows hip-swaying function: lean, modernist bass lines pulsating at steady metronomic tempos as melodic synthesizers swoosh over droll, muttered lyrics. A handful of collected ten-inch singles has flipped the F&M art-rock conceit from back-page punch line to marquee sensation. Earplug’s Jorge Hernandez spoke with lead singer David Best as F&M prepared to quit their white-collar day jobs and hit the road on their first US tour.

Earplug: So what’s this about you not liking iPods?

David Best: Think about albums like Spirit of Eden by Talk Talk, and how nowadays everything’s on shuffle; you lose the album, don’t you? It’s like when you have 100 channels on TV. Without being a bit wanky, some songs need to breathe a bit. But it cuts out the snobbery because so much is available to everybody, so that’s some middle ground. I’m sure I’ll end up getting one at some point.

EP: About Spirit of Eden…

DB: It’s one of those albums you can go to sleep to. For ages and ages, six months really, I couldn’t listen to it all the way through without dropping off. Now, I do sit-ups to it. It was kind of relaxing, and then I thought, “This album’s amazing!” It’s not Purple Rain — you need to give it time.

EP: Are you tired of talking about Krautrock?

DB: I love all that stuff, but I also love a lot of other things. We grew up on stuff like Happy Mondays, Talking Heads. I don’t want to be just the sum of our record collection. Bryan Ferry’s my favorite ever, with that vocal delivery, half spoken, half whispered.

EP: How about Scott Walker?

DB: The Drift is brilliant; it has some of the best lyrics. It’s so dense and heavy. I’ll probably listen to it sporadically over the next ten years. Tilt and Climate of Hunter are that same way, too.

EP: But you also like radio-friendly, three-minute French pop?

DB: It’s just the way it sounds, really. I always listen to lyrics first. The fact that it’s in French and I can’t understand anything makes it so much more interesting. When I listen to English or American bands, I’m not that into it.

EP: You use French in lyrics; they’re very dry, but the music’s very accessible.

DB: A lot of our stuff comes from getting the groove right, the bass line and drums — we don’t put a lot of stuff on top of it. I don’t want to throw guitar solos into everything. I’d rather keep it more streamlined.

EP: Your lyrics and humor appeal to a very smart set. Do you do most of the songwriting?

DB: Yeah, then someone else might add another element — a beat, or Matt [Hainsby] might bring a bass line in — until a song miraculously appears. Most lyrics in English are about the sun shining, with obvious rhymes, and I just got sick of it.

EP: Are you a production freak?

DB: Going over hi-hats all night is not my idea of fun. Steve [Lewis] programs it all. We kind of sit there and fall asleep and wake up when he’s got something. Then between the three of us we come up with what we come up with.

EP: Do you all still live near each other in Brighton?

DB: Until the end of the month, then we stop working. Matt works in the same office as me. We’re quitting then.

EP: You mean your day job? Now you get to go on the road and be rock stars?

DB: Well, we’re recording actually.

EP: The new album?

DB: I was gonna call it Light Bulb, but we have a song on there by that name, so now we’re calling it Ventriloquism.

EP: Do you read a lot?

DB: Not as much as I’d like to. But as the title of the last album suggests, I’m a massive Vladimir Nabokov fan. I never bothered really reading [Nabokov's novel Transparent Things] before, I just got through it. But re-reading it, I was like “Oh, it’s all right.” Then I traced it back like bands that I liked before, and got into all these other Russian authors.

EP: What kind of student were you?

DB: I was gonna be one of those people who was just gonna do art, but really half-assed. I went to art school so I could start music, really.

EP: How has your music evolved?

DB: Our last album was more electronic, but it didn’t translate well live, so our songs changed. We stopped listening to so many Warp records. It’s great stuff, but I really also love Bowie, Roxy Music, [and] Wire — they’re from the same county as me.

EP: You’re also a David Niven fan. He’s part French/British, with a wicked wit. Does that explain everything?

DB: I’ve always loved that little mustache. His autobiographies are great. But it really explains nothing. That’s a recent fascination. We’ve been Fujiya & Miyagi for a while now.

Bjork & Apparat: Reviews

And now back to our regularly scheduled self-promotion. A very condensed rehash of Bjork, and an extended wanking of Apparat CD reviews in the current issue of Earplug (#95). Ah, the joys of recycling and the editing process.
Hey, this blog ain’t payin the bills just yet, m’kay?

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Apparat
Walls
Shitkatapult
May 15, 2007

The mere mention of a German electronic musician with operatic tendencies is enough to clear a common dance floor. Apparat cognoscenti know better. They know that Orchestra of Bubbles, his 2006 collaboration with electro doyenne Ellen Allien, wasn’t just a title; it’s his guiding aesthetic. His latest solo CD breaks from highbrow club banging to indulge more ambient, romantic impulses. Walls is suffused with such radiant tristesse that tracks like “Arcadia” and “Limelight” threaten to burst techno’s austere constraints and cross over to daring R&B playlists. On “Headup,” “Over and Over,” and “Hold On,” guest Raz Ohara’s soignée crooning wafts through thickets of breakbeat clatter, music-box pings, and symphonic laptop psychedelia with radio-ready ease. Rarely has dissonance flashed so alluringly. Mixed in Chicago with the assistance of Telefon Tel Aviv’s Joshua Eustis, Walls retains its experimental integrity while acquiring a winning electro-soul glow. The final effect transcends trainspotting altogether, alighting on a level of songwriting sophistication that global DJ culture would do well to embrace.

Volta
One Little Indian
May 07, 2007

Lately, whenever 41-year-old Björk peers over her shoulder, the bitwise sprite beholds a trail ablaze with quirky imitators nipping at her iconoclastic heels. While her latest is indeed co-produced (in part) with hip-hop chart czar Timbaland, it’s immediately apparent who’s schooling whom. (Hint: Timba long ago sampled “Joga” for a Missy Elliot track.) With a title invoking an African river, the inventor of the electrical battery, and poetic structure, Volta’s charged ambitions and rapturous production coalesce into a potency that rivals Post, Homogenic, or Vespertine. Familiar in places, Volta flares brightest on the tingling, noirish “Vertebrae by Vertebrae,” the heavy-lidded Antony duet “The Dull Flame of Desire,” “Hope” (the Timba-produced staccato ditty about a pregnant suicide bomber), and the polyrhythmically perverse “Earth Intruders” and “Declare Independence.” No longer muse du jour, Björk is still plenty amped and in command of her pagan agenda. As Volta — and her recent show-stopping Coachella performance — attest, Björk’s supernova hasn’t dimmed; the sky’s just suddenly oh so… crowded.

-JH